


Ghost Of The Good Luck God

by BloodForTheBloodGod



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A lot of bad things happen to him, And now he's a ghost, Deity Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Dream only has spiteful memories, Gen, Ghost!Dream, He was rightfully spiteful, Hop To It, I want to read about Ghost Dream and I can't, Is most of his memories, So now I have to write about him, Then he was killed, There aren't enough fics with Ghost Dream, You know how Wilbur only has happy memories, before he died, formerly, to be fair, vengeful spirit, which
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodForTheBloodGod/pseuds/BloodForTheBloodGod
Summary: Every action a God takes is considered the right one. To keep them from becoming too powerful- they are connected with their followers. The flaws and misdeeds they commit reflect as illness in the God, and so did their followers' pains. Pain of any kind meant for their God to become sick- and this was how the Gods lashed out against Dream.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Everyone
Comments: 26
Kudos: 521





	Ghost Of The Good Luck God

_ He had proven himself to be better than them. _

Tommy stumbled backwards in shock, the mask he’d torn off the older man’s face gripped tightly in his hand. The gathering of his friends fell into a stunned silence as they all stared at his exposed face. He internally sighed. This isn’t how he wanted them to find out.

_ They wore prideful sneers as they watched him fall- their hands the ones that pushed him off. _

“You…” Tommy trailed off, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Wilbur shifted awkwardly beside his living brother. “You’re a ghost?!” the young blonde demanded, waving the mask around as he gestured, and his ghostly brother next to him made a face of distress.

_ They stripped him of his title and shoved him off the edge, and he fell from grace- literally. _

“When… when did you die?” Wilbur asked, unsure of what to do with the news that he wasn’t the only ghost in their land. His hands twisted in his yellow sweater, and Dream wrinkled his nose, looking away from the group. He opened his mouth the answer, hesitating slightly as he tried to find the words.

_ He was left with nothing but a complex- one that drove him to get his revenge for what they had done to him. _

“It was a really long time ago,” he decided. “Long before I even met anyone who lives here.” He shifted, sticking his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie in discomfort. Dream shifted his weight back and forth as whispers broke out amongst his friends- all of which eyed him carefully. “Can I please just have my mask back- I don’t really want to talk about it,” Dream said, holding out his hand. Tommy stared at the mask in his hands before looking up at the ghost in front of him. Dream was scowling, but refused to meet the younger boy’s eyes. Tommy set the mask into his hand, and Dream was quick to secure it back around his face. He let out a shaky sigh of relief before straightening out, and finally he turned to properly face the crowd in front of him. “I didn’t want this to be how you found out,” he told them seriously. “And I’d rather you not go around spreading this information. There’s a  _ reason  _ I didn’t tell anyone. Kindly respect that.” 

The man turned on his heel and marched out of the community house, the door slamming behind him. Tommy flinched slightly, ducking his head. Wilbur set his hand on his brother’s shoulder, mouth pressed into a tight line. Nothing was said as the group slowly disbanded, wandering back to their homes, Dream’s face haunting their thoughts.

________________________________

_ He was born in the Heavens to the Gods of Chance and Victory. The God of Good Luck, he was called, lovingly named Dream. He graced those who worshipped him with bright futures and good fortune in the endeavors that they sought having luck in. _

_ Dream was a skilled God- trained in the ways of combat by his War Goddess mother. Praise was rained upon him endlessly by his elders- until he proved himself to be more talented. Their words took a bitter turn, their pride demanding they tear him down so he could never be seen as superior in any way. _

_ Every action a God takes is considered the right one. To keep them from becoming too powerful- they are connected with their followers. The flaws and misdeeds they commit reflect as illness in the God, and so did their followers' pains. Pain of any kind meant for their God to become sick- and this was how the Gods lashed out against Dream. _

_ Monsters were sent to hunt his followers to the ends of the Earth- given the mission to kill them in gruesome torturous ways. Dream did what he could to protect them- going as far as to go down and walk alongside them. He spent weeks on the ground, sitting with groups of his followers as he blessed them each individually. The illness spreading through his body tried to slow him down, but he brushed aside his own aches and tiredness to use his power. _

_ It all went to waste. He’d done everything he could, fighting off the monsters himself as he ordered his followers to run while they had the chance- but it didn’t matter. Each and every one of them was killed off within the year. He returned to the Heavens a failure and a laughing stock. They mocked him for being unable to save his followers- called him weak. His parents turned a blind eye to the harassment their son endured, saying that they were right. The son of the God of Victory should not have failed so miserably. _

_ He lashed out- took his axe and went on a slaughter through the Heavens. The blood of over a hundred Gods stained his blade before they were finally able to stop him. He tilted up his chin in defiance as his arms were tied and he was dragged like an animal to the edge of the Heavens. They sneered at him pridefully as he was thrown over the side. And as he plummeted they stripped him of his title- leaving no chance for him to survive the impact. _

__________________________________________

Dream woke up a ghost, the only memories he had left were of his spite. He wandered the Earth, years spent searching for a way to bring himself back- to regain his power and take his full revenge against the Gods.

He became well known for his fighting and parkour skills, but most of the attention that surrounding him was far from positive. He refused to go by anything but ‘Dream’ and those who remembered what happened to the God’s followers distanced themselves from him. Whether it was in fear or hatred, he didn’t know, though he speculated that some thought of him using the name as sacrilegious. It was a dangerous game to take the name of a God as one’s own- the Gods seeing it as humans believing themselves as worthy as they are. Dream couldn’t have cared less- and now it didn’t matter if the Gods knew he was still around. He was a  _ ghost _ , they couldn’t do anything to him anymore.

______________

Eventually enough time passed that no one knew of his time as a God. The name of Dream the Good Luck God was stripped from the Holy Texts and removed from history. As much as he despised it, he knew that it was for the best. His name would not draw attention to him anymore, at least not for being ‘disrespectful’. 

  
  


He claimed untouched land for himself, setting up a home in the side of the hill. Dream traveled to villages in the area, making friends with those who looked unsatisfied with their life as it was, and invited them back to the land he had made his own. Loosely followed laws were set in place, but he himself declined the idea of being a ruler or leader to his friends. It couldn’t be him- he wasn’t going to be here forever, and when the day came when he could finally kill those who’d killed him, he would leave. 

Their land expanded as more people caught word of it, coming from far places to see for themselves. Wars were waged over silly ideas- nations and factions being made. It didn’t matter to Dream, not  _ really _ , but the fun of playing along with the games his friends set up pulled him in. Everything went smoothly- no one suspected a thing. Until Tommy had enough of his ‘mysterious’ act and pulled the mask from his face.

_ Should’ve known that ‘good luck’ was going to run out one day. _

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter:
> 
> @PlayNiceOrDie


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